Countdown to Destruction: Anthologies
by Daletiel
Summary: An anthology detailing the exploits of previous ranger teams while the Countdown was happening.
1. Prologue: City on Fire

Author's Note: I can't even remember when I originally started this project. It must be over a year ago now. Still, since I've pretty well been non-existent in the fandom over the last 9 to 10 months, I wanted to make another splash. Enjoy. 

**Prologue: City on Fire**

The hotel room was dark and barren, save for a small slit of sunlight coming from only window the small cell-like room. A lone figure sat on the unmade bed, his head bent forward, forehead resting on his palms. Eyes red and bloodshot peered past eyelids half closed, watching the dust drift slowly towards him from the breeze blowing in through the crack in the doorframe. Tiny droplets of water fell from exposed pipes in the half-finished ceiling, making a circular stain as they pooled on the carpet a few inches from his feet. The man watched the puddle idly, gazing unseeing at it as it slowly began to spread across the frayed and tattered fabric. He was clad in nothing but a dark tanktop and jeans. His exposed arms were criss-crossed with scars; ever present reminders of his past.

The phone beside the bed rang, driving him forcibly out of his self-imposed stupor. He closed his eyes, and picked up the phone with his right hand, groaning as his head began to throb from the sound of the ringing.

"Hello?"

"Hello, sir. You asked me to inform you if you had any visitors. There's a young woman here to see you." He pushed himself to his feet, standing uncertainly on legs that seemed like they could barely support him.

"I don't want to see anyone. Tell her to go away." He hung up the phone without waiting for the desk clerk to reply. He massaged his brow lightly. The fighting was raging outside. Quantrons and Piranhatrons were combing the city for the last pockets of resistance, killing any that got in their way. The invasion was progressing without incident.

Heavy footsteps led him to the tiny bathroom in the corner. He opened the door, leaving the light off. He reached forward, gripping the pill bottle in his fist, and popped the top off with his thumb. He ran his finger lightly over the label; a label he knew explicitly though he couldn't see it. Percocet, it read. He shook three tablets into his hand and replaced the cap. Tossing the tablets lightly into his mouth, he quickly ground them down with his teeth as he walked back to the bed. Sitting himself down, he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed one of the few personal items he had deemed necessary to bring with him. He brushed stray strands of light brown hair from his eyes as he looked at the embodiment of everything he believed in, at one point or another.

He had the power to help; to prevent the senseless slaughter of countless innocents…but he was tired. The countless years of defending the innocent had taken their toll on his body, and he had no one left to rely on. They had all gone their separate ways, to make their way into the real world, leaving him behind, it seemed. After he 'retired', everything started falling apart, one after another. First he had been forced to give up the only thing that seemed to give him the adrenaline fix he felt he needed, a fix that he had once gotten from the fight.

Without it, the dreams began coming back. The same spine chilling dreams he had experienced after the first time he had fought, and won, to regain his humanity. Every time he sought to gain a respite from the world, every time he was about to drift off to sleep, they would appear to him. Visions of destruction and death, of pain and suffering that he had caused. They got bad enough that he was forced to take dream suppressants to keep them at bay. He knew that his hands were bloodstained, but he thought he had come to terms with that. Then…

He gritted his teeth and threw the objects across the room. They smashed into the wall and fell to the ground, kicking up dust as they landed. He leaned back against the bed, knowing that they weren't damaged, and sighed. He hadn't wanted to think about it again, but the thoughts started flooding in again in a rush of emotion. Bad news had a tendency of traveling fast, it seemed. His brother's death had hit him hard. It was during the early hours of the invasion. Soldiers were herding large groups of civilians to detention areas. His brother was one of them. He tried to fight them, to give the others a chance to run. He was cut down, brutally and efficiently.

Feeling the rough comforter against his skin, the man chuckled sadly, his mind struggling to stay afloat in the sea of tumultuous feelings washing through his psyche. In a way, he envied his brother. At least he was at peace. His brother didn't have to worry about the world coming to an end, or having the same damn argument with himself that he'd been having since he had come back to the city he spent the majority of his teenage years in.

He heard a gentle rumbling in the distance, but ignored it, being too wrapped up in his thoughts to care about the outside world. The rumbling began to intensify, bringing with it the first indication that something was amiss: one by one, windows began shattering on the very fringe of his senses. A bright flash of light from the window drew his attention, and, though his reactions were a little more sluggish than usual, he got to his feet and made his way to the window as swiftly as he could. A large explosion had erupted a few square blocks away. He leaned forward slightly, squinting in the sunlight, trying to see the cause of it, but a fine layer of smoke and dust drifted through the area like a large cloud of fog, obscuring his vision of the chaos in the distance. Large chunks of debris rained down, shattering to pieces when it hit the cracked pavement. He could hear screams as people ran in a vain attempt to escape the destruction. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Being on the outskirts of the city, the hotel had escaped the initial attack relatively unscathed, but from the looks of the situation that was going to change in a hurry. _This isn't my fight. I didn't come back to fight a war._ He opened his eyes a slit, peering out from under eyelids that felt heavy and dead, as the sound of rapid footsteps on metal drifted towards him. He snapped his gaze downward, and saw a throng of soldiers swarming up the fire escape, on their way to the fifth floor, the floor where his room was located.

His mind worked furiously, analyzing the situation as instinct took over. He moved quickly, and snatched the discarded items from the floor, strapping them swiftly to his wrists. He shook his head, trying to fight off the effects of the painkillers he had just taken. There was no way around it. He would have to fight; maybe not for a goal as lofty as saving the world, but to save himself; at the moment, that seemed like as good a reason as any. His fists clenched subconsciously at his sides as he waited for the fight to come.

The door flew inwards, tearing free from its hinges, large splinters raining down as it skidded towards the bed. As the now-useless door lay cracked and broken atop the mattress, the soldiers began swarming into the room. Luckily for the man, they were only able to stream in one at a time, due to the size constraints of the door frame. His head snapped backward as his attention was split between the doorway and the loud, piercing sound of the window behind him shattering into jagged shards of glass. One of the soldiers standing on the emergency balcony cleared the debris from the windowpane, and they began pouring in from the alternate entryway. _Fuck_.

He leaped into the air, performing a split kick that sent two soldiers sprawling backwards into the soldiers behind them, both groups tumbling to the ground heavily. He performed a trio of jump spinning heel kicks, forcing the soldiers to keep their distance. He shot his foot out, connecting with the long, thin wooden bar running along the foot of the bed, severing it from its housing. He dove forward, sliding across the edge of the bed, his right hand reaching out to grab the bar. The unfinished wood felt jagged against the skin of his palm as his hand wrapped around its breadth. He rolled quickly, coming to rest in a crouch, the bar remaining stiff at an angle in front of him, like a bo staff. _Welcome to my nightmare._

He got to his feet wearily, handling the staff with ease. Soldiers began falling by the wayside like a set of dominoes as he moved, twirling the staff for attack after attack. Parry, thrust, sidestep, counter-attack. The soldiers' attacks became more frenzied, the slashes of the weapons coming closer to striking home. On a good day, he wouldn't have had any problems taking them down. On a good day, he would never have let himself get cornered like this. But this wasn't a good day. Far from it.

His muscles began to burn from the exertion. He was having a more and more difficult time keeping up. _Goddamn painkillers._ He hated them, but needed them. He relied on them as an artist relied on his muse. They were his only escape from the pain, his only way of dealing with it. Unfortunately, that escape seemed to be bringing him closer and closer to his death.

He twirled the staff over his head, cracking it forward in a quick strike at the neck of the nearest soldier. His slowness in retracting it, however, gave a nearby blade the opportunity to come down heavily across the staff's middle, an opportunity that wasn't wasted. He cursed inwardly, and threw the two pieces to either side of him, his body moving of its own accord.

Springing to the side, he planted his left foot on the wall, and pushed off, reaching for the ceiling to grab one of the overhanging pipes. He swung himself forward; kicking out with his feet and effectively blocking the doorway with the collapsed forms of the soldiers he had just made contact with. He released the pipe with his right hand, and spun in mid-air, turning so that his back was to the door. He regained his grip on the pipe with the hand, released his left, and, using his momentum, released his hold, sending him hurtling towards the window feet-first. Crossing his arms across his chest, tucking his elbows tightly against his body, he forced himself into a tight counter-clockwise spin, his feet barreling through any opposition they encountered. He closed his eyes as the window drew closer and closer.

Time seemed to come to a grinding halt as his body passed through the pane, the tiny shards of glass still lying on the ledge glistening with the reflections of glistening flames. The air seemed thick; too thick to pass through, but pass through he did. It was bullet-time, without the cheesy ripple effects one might see in the movies. It was so slow he almost didn't see the knee slicing through the air towards the middle of his body. He stiffened his arms, but knew there was nothing he could do.

The impact changed his trajectory; where before he had been moving through the air, parallel to the floor, he was now flying out of control, twisting erratically from the blow. He was slammed into the fire escape's metal railing, smashing his head into the grated platform in the process. The railing squealed in protest as it bent under his weight; the sound of footsteps continued as soldiers rushed upwards towards him.

He shook his head roughly, trying to ignore the throbbing at the front of his cranium. _They're still coming. I'm dead if I can't get out of here._ He took a breath to steady himself, rising slowly onto shaky legs. He was enclosed on both sides; blades were directed at him from soldiers standing at the stairs and the window.

"Do not try to resist." The metallic voice held a faint echo, making the inaudible threat almost laughable. He forced a smirk to the corner of his lips.

"Sorry boys, maybe next time." Gripping hold of the railing with his right hand, he threw himself into the void as the soldiers rushed forward in a feeble attempt to stop him. The wind began whipping into his face as he began to realize the potential folly of his decision. _Zeo crystal, don't fail me now._ He brought his wrists together as the cold concrete rushed to meet him.

"It's morphin' time!" The same familiar crimson light flashed as the transformation took place and the heightened abilities began to take over. All senses were covered: sight, sound, touch, smell, even taste. Though the helmet that began to form around his head would appear to obscure any smells or tastes to enter, he was certain he could detect the faint taste of water in the air. The temperature had dropped at least two or three degrees; it was about to start raining.

He flipped in the air and landed nimbly on his feet, his armor fully formed. He took a cursory glance at himself. It had been a long time since he'd had the need or inclination to morph. His eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of himself. The armor was different. Whereas in the past its colour had been a bright, brilliant shade of red, it now bore a deep, almost burgundy colour. Almost bloody. His gloves and boots seemed grimy, lacking the pure ivory luster they had once had. He chuckled ruefully. _I guess there was more of a connection than he told us. My armor looks as damaged as I am._

He sprinted down the alleyway, knocking aside adversaries as if they weren't even there. His hand was being forced, that much was plain. _I didn't come back looking for a fight, but if they want a war I'll give them a god damn war._

- C2D -

Katherine Hillard walked out the front door of the hotel slowly, coming to a halt on the crumbled sidewalk where a group of three others waited for her. Her family, through shared experiences more so than blood relations. The Zeo Rangers, reunited again. They had more or less gone their separate ways since passing on their powers. Each of them had left Angel Grove, each for their own reasons. Now they were back, where it had all begun. Kat smiled a small smile when she stopped.

"Thanks for coming, guys," she said simply. Rocky DeSantos grinned crookedly.

"Come on, Kat. The world's coming to and end. Where else would we be?" The statement brought a collective chuckle from the assembled group.

"Where is he?" The question had been asked softly, though not without force. It came from the mouth of Adam Park. He was the same age as the rest of the group, yet he looked different. The years were beginning to show on his face. His always-calm demeanor was still there, but it was a little more cracked; a little more worn. It was a subtle change, one that a person wouldn't notice unless they had known him. Kat sighed.

"He wouldn't see me. He wouldn't even talk to me."

"What happened to our fearless leader? In the old days he would have been first in line if it meant keeping people safe," Rocky replied, crossing his arms across his chest.

"He's changed." The response came from Tanya Sloane, and Adam noticed that she took great care not to look in his direction. His lips tightened into a thin line. _We've all changed._

"This is irrelevant. If Tommy won't come with us then we'll have to do it ourselves." He took a small object out of his back pocket: a portable communicator. "I've been keeping in touch with Carlos and the Astro Rangers. They've set up a temporary command center near the town square. Let's go." They turned, one at a time, and began to walk along the cracked and broken path. Only one of them stopped to look back. Turning his head, Adam sighed softly at the sight of Kat looked back at the building. Motioning for the others to keep moving, he took a step back and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"He had the chance to be here with us and he turned it down. It's done."

"But--"

"Tommy can take care of himself, Kitten. If he needs us, he'll call." Kat's shoulders slumped to a degree as she turned to look into Adam's eyes. She could see the concern in his eyes, but it was obvious he wasn't going to budge. He leaned in and kissed her gently, pressing his forehead to hers. As their lips parted, she nodded once, and allowed him to lead her away from the hotel.


	2. Part I: A Ranger Reunion

**Part I: A Ranger Reunion**

The charred, blackened street was filled with debris as the group of former rangers made their way towards the makeshift command center. People of all ages and creeds huddled together, taking comfort in each other as a way to escape the horrors they had borne witness to. The city still stood, albeit barely. Most of the downtown center had been annihilated in the initial onslaught, with hordes of quantrons and piranhatrons sweeping out in an ever-expanding radius from the ruins of the city center.

_It was bound to happen sooner or later._ The thought came from a man leaning against the brick exterior of Angel Grove High, just inside the shadows generated by the scorching overhead sun. A half-smoked cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth, faint embers still smoldering at its tip. He stole a glance down at his watch. _They're late,_ he thought, grimacing in pain from the movement of his arm. He opened and closed his hand repeatedly, trying to work the feeling back into the limb. His hair flared out and drifted gently in the breeze, tickling the back of his neck. It hadn't been this long since he was a child; it certainly had never been in his years living in Angel Grove.

The distinct sound of quantrons' footsteps grew closer, but the man didn't move, instead standing calmly and continuing to puff on the cigarette. A squad of the foot soldiers numbering 40, likely performing a routine reconnaissance sweep, closed in, cutting off any hope of escape. Taking a final puff on the cigarette, the man let it fall from his fingers, snuffing it out with a twist of his foot. The lead quantron, identified by the black and purple armband just below its shoulder, stepped forward and addressed the man.

"Surrender and you will not be harmed, human," the leader's mechanized voice was cold and monotonous. Confronted by what would normally be overwhelming odds, the man turned to face his adversaries. A smirk played on his lips.

"That just bought you a one-way ticket to the scrap heap," he said, calmness never leaving his voice. A couple of the soldiers behind the leader exchanged glances as the man dropped into a comfortable fighting stance. Smirk still intact, the man gestured the soldiers forward with his right hand.

A pair of them fell quickly to the ground from twin haymakers. A spin kick took down a third, sending it sprawling into the group of them. Snapping his head to the side to see a trio of quantrons rushing forward, he cartwheeled to the side and out of the way of their rush, and performed a spinning heel kick to their backs before they had a chance to turn around. A flurry of punches and short, sharp kicks took down soldier after soldier that rushed at him. His heart began to pump quicker as adrenaline flowed through him. He reacted without thinking, without the need to think. It was all instinct, ingrained within him from years of fighting.

The man smoothed out his jacket as the last of the soldiers fell lifelessly to the ground, sending up stray sparks into the empty air. The sound of clapping from behind him caused him to spin quickly to confront the newcomer.

"Not bad for an old-timer, Jase," the newcomer said, smiling. Jason relaxed visibly and strode forward, exchanging a handshake and a smile with the man in front of him.

"You're one to talk, Zack-man. If you had gotten here earlier you could have helped me out some."

"You? Need help? Pshaw. Besides, I got my fill of 'fun' on my way into the city." Jason's face soured immediately. Time for small talk was gone.

"Are the others with you?" he asked.

"Yeah, they're inside the school," Zack replied, gesturing to the building's front doors, now standing slightly ajar. Jason nodded and walked to the front door, taking care to step over the sparking remains in his path. Zack followed, thrusting his hands deeply into his pockets.

Jason's first steps into the building brought on an odd feeling in him. It had been a couple years since he had walked its halls. It looked far different then. The hallway looked as if a tornado had torn through it; chairs and sets of lockers were strewn chaotically in their path, forcing them to step around, and sometimes climb over, the obstructions. They made their way in that manner to the cafeteria.

The cafeteria had been designed as the building's geometric center upon construction, and as such had been spared the worst of the destruction. Aside from some debris that had filtered through the entrances, the room didn't seem any worse for wear. A pair of women stood at the far end of the cafeteria, leaning on the stage that jutted out from the wall as Jason and Zack entered. One was dressed in a slim-fitting pair of jeans and a bright rosy tank-top, the other in a pair of loose black training pants and a yellow three-quarter length tee. Kimberly Hart and Trini Kwan.

The group exchanged greetings quickly. Zack crossed his arms across his chest.

"Looks like the gang's all here," he said.

"All except one," Kimberly replied. "Where's Billy?"

"He's not coming," Jason said with a shake of his head. "The Aquitian military is having trouble holding back the Alliance of Evil's forces, even with their team of rangers. Billy decided to stay and help protect his family." Trini seemed to flinch visibly at the mention of the relationship between Billy and Cestria, but she quickly regained her composure.

"You seem to know more about this than the rest of us, Jason. Would you care to fill us in?" Jason shrugged.

"There isn't really much to say. I've been keeping in touch with Adam to help keep me appraised of what the others have been doing. Adam's had contact with the Astro Rangers, and let me know."

"Wait a minute," Kimberly interrupted. "You said you'd been keeping in touch with Adam. Tommy's the leader of the Zeo Rangers. Shouldn't you have been talking to him instead?" Three pairs of eyes turned to Jason, all expecting a response. Jason sighed.

"Tommy's not leading the Zeo Rangers anymore. He left."

"Man, it looks like we've missed a lot since we went to Switzerland for the Peace Conference," Zack said, a sardonic chuckle escaping his lips.

"Why did he leave? Surely he had a reason for it," Trini asked.

"He seemed fine on the Island," Kimberly said softly, referring to the battle against Divatox and Maligore.

"It started on Graduation Day," Jason began. "It was a gradual change, something you'd only notice if you knew what to look for. He started receding into himself, becoming more of the loner he was when he first got to Angel Grove. He avoided us, and even tried to avoid his responsibilities as a ranger. Even when I confronted him he wouldn't give me an explanation, but the look in his eyes told me that it wasn't an explanation he was prepared to give, so I let him be. Even now, I don't know what the problem is."

The quartet was silent for a few moments, until Trini broke the silence.

"If that's the case, there's nothing to be done. We have bigger problems right now. There's a war going on, and a lot of innocent people are getting caught in the crossfire." Jason nodded in agreement, crossing his arms across his chest.

"We can't let that happen."

"But what can we do about it? These aren't anything more but over-glorified paperweights," Kimberly said, taking out her morpher and power coin. The other three exchanged a glance.

"You're wrong," Trini replied. "Our morphers work fine." Kimberly shook her head quickly.

"No they don't." She held out her hand, displaying her morpher for the others to see. The morpher itself looked fine, but the Pterodactyl coin inside it was greatly damaged, bearing deep char marks running across its surface. "When our Thunderzords were destroyed, the backlash destroyed our powers."

"Then why didn't they destroy ours?" Zack asked, bringing out his morpher, with Jason and Trini quickly following suit. Their morphers showed a sharp contrast to Kimberly's; they looked almost brand new. Kimberly's eyes widened slightly.

"But how--"

"I don't know," Jason replied thoughtfully, "but I think it had something to do with the way our powers were transferred to Rocky, Adam and Aisha. They got duplicates of our coins, and the direct link to the Morphing Grid was transferred to the duplicates. When your coins were destroyed, the link was restored to our coins."

"So...that was you three who saved those children in Switzerland?" Kimerly asked. Trini smiled and nodded.

"We didn't know if our coins would work, but people were in trouble. We had to try."

"And try we did," Zack continued. "Wouldn't you know it, they worked."

"We did what had to be done," Jason finished.

"Well, at least some of us have powers we can fall back on," Kimberly said shortly. "Either way, I'm going to do what I can to help." Jason nodded once, and gestured to the door.

"Come on, then. We've got work to do."


End file.
